Speaking of Growth Plates...

I have a small moral challenge going on here (smirking to a degree that is really just uncomfortable looking because I'm about to bust out a big old Cheshire grin). Remember the wedding I have next month?
Remember the dress I'd picked out to wear?

I swung by on my way home last night to retrieve it and all they had left in my size was petite. Now this is not a terribly form-fitting number. It's a rather Grecian, red silk dress that fits me like I've just come back from the tailor. The issue? The dress is short and I am not.

At 5'9, it's still not indecent. I took a vote in the dressing room with a modest quorum of 2 sales ladies, 1 gay guy, 1 girl about my age and 1 straight guy and all confirmed that it was not indecent. They also confirmed that I was walking a 1/2 inch of a thin line there and that with 3 1/2 inch heels I might give someone a heart attack. Likely my mother, should she see the pictures.

I'll try on sometime this week before the tags come off but I'm leaning toward using, "I always finish my milk," as an excuse for myself, someone not really making any excuses at all.

In the meantime, I'm still adjusting back to real life from my weekend of junior high (maybe high school) misbehavior and am settling in with dinner.

Tonight? Chicken tenderloins that have been marinating in in ginger-orange teriyaki all day, half a baked sweet potato and a Sugar Shack House Salad. I love the way my hands smell when I've been cutting lemons, limes and oranges. Yum.